


Walking on Broken Glass

by RhinoHill



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Deep emotion, F/M, OK and fluff too, Pete finally serves a useful purpose, Yep definitely fluff, ending up together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 19,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25672171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhinoHill/pseuds/RhinoHill
Summary: She had made her peace with it. They couldn't be together.Pete loved her, and she would build a life with him.Until Annie Lennox started playing on the jukebox.Some scenes that should have been in Threads (8-18), and a moment of justice for fellow "ugh"ers of Pete...--oOo--
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 446
Kudos: 254





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “I’m living in an empty room  
> With all the windows smashed  
> And I've got so little left to lose  
> That it feels just like I'm walking on broken glass”  
> \- Annie Lennox

Why the fuck had she agreed to this?

Sam sighed to herself through the non-stop gush of Pete’s inane conversation.

She had invited Pete along to Hailey and the other recruits’ promotion party at O’Malley’s specifically so he would shut up about being excluded from her work. She had introduced him to her father today, which had been like giving a toddler who had specifically asked for a My Little Pony Doll a box of raw liver for her birthday. And she had brought him along tonight because that way he could meet everyone and get the stupid notion that she was ashamed of him out of his thick skull.

An evening of drinks with half the SGC should have been the easiest way to bring the two sides of her life together. But instead, she had seethed with tension from the moment they had walked through the door and seen _him_ leaning against the Juke Box, smiling at CIA Kerry the way he smiled at a System Lord he was contemplating dismembering.

Of course, Pete had made a beeline for them, delight painting his face. When really, all she wanted was to have a beer, kick some cocky airman’s ass at pool and get out of there with minimal collateral damage.

They had all plastered fixed grins on through the inevitable introductions, and she had taken the earliest subtle pause for breath as an opportunity to offer to go grab Pete a drink, so she could get out from under the brown eyes that took the two of them in, silently, intently. Brown eyes that made her want to yank her hand away from Pete’s touch.

Because Pete was sweet, and available, and uncomplicated. But he left her cold.

And the man against the Jukebox, the one that came with more danger and complication than she could ever contemplate — she could be around the General at work, off world, alone, in a crowd, and sublimate her feelings. But not in the same room as Pete, it turned out. Put the three of them close together and she wanted to shove Pete’s clammy hands off her and scream.

Of course, Pete had given that stupid guffaw and pretended she was hinting that _he_ should be going to the bar, and immediately rushed off to get all four of them drinks. Which meant that now, instead of being able to channel her frustration into a cold pilsner and a pool cue, she was wedged into a booth — a booth with a direct line of sight of the jukebox — drinking a glass of sharp red wine far more quickly than she should be, because Pete had always assumed she drank red wine and never even asked if she wanted a beer. And he was prattling, waving, calling out to people she usually just nodded at in the corridors.

Fucking nightmare.

She gulped another mouthful of the dark, astringent liquid.

It was going straight to her head. But at least it was taking the edge off her annoyance at his pawing.

From the corner, brown eyes watched her steadily, being drawn away only from time to time to answer one of CIA Kerry’s questions.

The irony was that she admired the woman with the long brown hair. Kerry Johnson had done well in her career, and she had gotten where she was by being herself. Not apologising for being a woman, but not sleeping her way to the top, either. When they first met a week ago, Sam had even had a fleeting thought that they may become friends.

“Yes,” she answered Pete distractedly, not sure what he’d even asked her.

Bringing him along was such a big mistake.

The song that had been playing ended and CIA Kerry leaned around the General to select something new. Leaned around him, rather than respecting his personal space and just walking two steps. What the hell.

Pete’s arm settled around her shoulders.

The upbeat piano chords of Annie Lennox’s _Walking on Broken Glass_ flooded the room.

“Aah, I love this song! I am such a child of the eighties,” Pete simpered in her ear.

Against the jukebox, Kerry’s hips bounced to the beat. And the General didn’t move away.

The lyrics she knew and dreaded floated towards her across the crowded space: _The sun’s still shining in the deep blue sky, but it don’t mean nothing to me. Oh, let the rain come down, let the wind blow through me._

“Well, come on then, sweetie, don’t leave me hanging.”

Pete’s lips were moist against her cheek, and the wave of revulsion flooded her without warning.

She shrank away as if slapped, threw outstretched palms into the air as a barrier.

“Babe, what is it? You’ve been off all night. It’s okay if you don’t want to dance. Are you not feeling well?”

Each term of endearment rankled more than the last, but at least he’d offered her an escape hatch.

“Yes, yes, I’m not feeling well,” she muttered. “I think I’ll go.”

His arms were back around her like a bloody octopus.

“It’s okay sweet, I’ll take you.”

“Pete! Could you just leave off, please!”

His hangdog look of innocent hurt blasted oil on the flame of her frustration. How had she ended up with a fucking Labrador Retriever?

“Look, we came in separate cars,” she forced her tone to soften as she shifted around the table, getting out the long way round to avoid touching him, “it makes no sense for you to take me home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Without a look back, she marched towards the door.

The night air was a mercy. Cool, dark, andmuffling the words of the song that cut into her flesh. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and broke into a jog towards her car, not slowing when the door opened again and released a fresh blast of music.

“Carter, is he bothering you?”

The General’s voice was so close it warmed the air on the nape of her neck. Hs words were tense, quiet. Thrumming with contained anger.

Her hand loosened on her keys in the car door, leaving them dangling as she turned to face him.

His lips were parted in the moonlight.

She forced her eyes to drop.

“No, sir. I’m just tired.”

“Looked like more than that from where I was standing.”

His hands were curled into fists.

She forced her gaze back to his face.

“Carter, if he so much as touches you…”

His throat worked around unspoken words.

 _Now everyone of us was made to suffer, everyone of us was made to weep,_ the music punched into her, relentless.

“It’s not Pete, Sir,” she found herself saying to his parted lips.

Her heart pulled at the relief she saw softening the furious line of his mouth.

The longing she normally kept locked away fluttered free. She followed the angle of his jaw up to the strong line of his cheekbones, up to his eyes.

Four years ago, they had looked at each other like this, separated by a Goa’uld forcefield. She had been certain of her own death that day. Yet now, with Pete’s ring heavy on her finger and a woman leaning against him at the jukebox, she felt she had so much less to lose.

 _I’m standing in an empty room,_ the music thudded into her, soft but no less painful, _with all the windows smashed. And I’ve got so little left to lose, that it feels just like I’m walking on broken glass._

The wine had gone to her head.

Because suddenly, her lips were on his mouth, her fingers clasped around his head, her tongue spilling all her secrets.

With a deep moan, he enveloped her in his arms. His kiss was hungry, knowing, deep.

The door to the bar swung open flooding them in sharper music.

“Jack? Are you okay? Where’s the fire?”

Kerry’s voice drifted over the parked cars and music.

They snapped apart in the darkness. She stumbled away, her hip connecting with the cold metal of her car. Fumbling for the keys, twisting them in the lock, yanking the door open.

As the ignition caught, a head of dark brown curls appeared in her rearview mirror.

 _So take me from the wreckage, save me from the blast,_ the song trailed behind her as she stepped on the accelerator and sped into the night.

_Lift me up, and take me back. Don’t let me keep on walking. I can’t keep on walking on broken glass._


	2. Red wine, mistakes, apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can feel it and dream it  
>  I know you want to believe it  
>  Just steal it  
>  Take a piece of the sun and drink some  
>  Red wine, mistakes, apologies”
> 
> \- Jack Johnson
> 
> She had made a mistake. Crossed the line. But how do you apologise for something you don't regret doing?
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best read with a wry smile, a large glass of red wine and Jack Johnson's song "Red wine, mistakes, apologies" playing in the background.
> 
> \--oOo--

He lingered on her tongue.

Through the long broken night, past the guilt-tipped dawn, into the bleary morning, the ghost of his arms, the whisper of his moan as he pulled her closer, clung to her.

It was the biggest mistake of her career. She had let herself go.

Anyone who had seen them could report her.

 _He_ could report her for her monumental loss of control.

But she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

Being in his arms was like bathing in the sun.

Kissing him felt like destiny.

Her heart tapped faster as the lift approached the level that housed his office.

 _Drama queen much?_ Her brain snarked. _Sure. He’s the best kiss you’ve had in years. But who are you comparing him to, exactly? Your Labrador Retriever? Get a grip, Sam. You wanted a beer and he tasted of beer. It’s science, not destiny._

That wasn’t true, though.

She hadn’t wanted beer. She’d wanted Jack. And he tasted of Jack.

She’d made the biggest mistake of her career, and she needed to apologise before he took her silence for insubordination.

But she couldn’t bring herself to apologise for something she wished she could do again.

With a groan, she spun away from his office door and strode towards her lab, pulling the door closed behind her.

Normally, it was open.

Today wasn’t normal.

Twice, she was certain the pace, the resonance of the steps outside her lab door belonged to him. Each time, she froze, desperate to see his expression, petrified of having to face his gentle reproach.

Twice, the footfalls had faded away.

When the knock came, it followed different-sounding feet.

“Colonel Carter?” Hailey’s voice was hopeful through the door.

Sam smiled despite herself.

“Come in, Lieutenant,” she called, folding her laptop halfway down, an automatic safeguarding of her thoughts.

The diminutive human in dress blues exploded into the room, her own computer tucked under her arm.

“Thanks for coming last night! It was a good party, I thought? Do you have time to give me some pointers on my PhD? It’s the quantum translation that’s bothering me.”

Hailey was still so young, Sam thought, as she made noises of agreement. Everything lay ahead of her.

_Be careful who you give your heart to, Jen. Love makes quantum translation look simple._

The steps she knew so well, ached for, dreaded, approached while Hailey motored on, gesturing at her screen.

“Carter?” His voice thudded into her chest.

She didn’t have her apology prepared. She still didn’t want to say it. Because she still wasn’t sorry.

The door swung open.

“Oh, hey Hailey.”

“General O’Neill.”

Hailey stretched uncomfortably in her salute, nearly reaching Sam’s shoulder.

She just about managed to hide a fond smile.

“You’re OK, Lieutenant, carry on.” He waved a reassuring hand at the young woman, but his brown eyes focused on Sam, even as he spoke.

Sam wet her lips with her tongue.

“Thanks, Sir. I was just talking to Colonel Carter about my plans for the gate algorithm.” Hailey prattled on.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Ah,” he commented drily.

Sam’s hands tightened on the edge of her desk.

“General O’Neill, you’re coming to my aunt’s dinner tonight, aren’t you?” Hailey asked.

His eyebrow dropped again, creasing into a frown.

“Your aunt, Hailey?”

“Kerry? Kerry Johnson? My father’s sister? You knew that, right? I mean, you’re --“

“She hadn’t mentioned it.”

His tone was dismissive, but a muscle jumped in his jaw.

“Oh, that’s strange. She specifically asked to be seated next to you. I assumed you were close.”

Oblivious to the ice that enveloped Sam, Hailey spun to face her eagerly. “Colonel Carter, I hadn’t asked if you wanted your fiancé to join us? I had a seat saved for Doctor Jackson, so there’s no harm in him taking it.”

“NO!”

Her shock overpowered the frozen dread that pinned Sam to her desk.

“No, you have to keep Daniel’s seat,” she forced her voice to calm as she spoke, dredging up Jack’s words from the day before when she herself had suggested giving up on Daniel. Making it the apology she didn’t want to give. “We’re not giving up on him. Not yet.”

She was talking to Hailey, but her gaze rested on him, gauging his reaction.

His eyes softened under the sideways pull of his lips.

“Besides, I won’t be able to come tonight,” Sam pushed ahead, folding truth into confession. “My father wants to see me, to sort through his paperwork. And I’m rubbish at dinner parties, anyway. The red wine goes straight to my head and I end up doing things I have to apologise for in the morning.”

Brown eyes held her softly.

“And there I was just learning to love red wine,” he said quietly.


	3. Till you ask me to go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before his feet could find direction, she was in front of him. For this first time since that evening in the car park, they were alone. 
> 
> “Carter, do you want me to clear out?”
> 
> \--oOo--
> 
> A bittersweet moment before that "always" conversation in Threads.

*Jack*

Being back in BDUs made him feel one layer less disgusted with himself. At least he belonged here.

He thought his Black Ops years had ground the sharpness of desire down to something he could hold without bleeding, but the taste of her kiss, the feel of her body pressed against him in the darkness, had torn a hole his armour.

All through the meetings yesterday, all through Kerry’s infernal dinner last night, the same fifteen seconds had looped in his mind. Had driven him to distraction. And he’d succumbed to Kerry’s offered release, even as guilt clawed in the pit of his stomach. Because she deserved more than to be a placeholder in his bed.

He shouldn’t have done it. He could barely bring himself to talk to her this morning through the mud of his self-loathing.

And then.

And then _she_ was standing in front of him, saying things that made his heart stutter with hope while his legs sank into leaden dread as Kerry’s footsteps drew closer behind him.

Where was a fucking solar flare when you needed one? He would gladly step through the gate into the past and relive every moment of pain in the past four years if it meant he could do the past two days over again. If it meant he could draw her closer in the parking lot of O’Malley’s, hold on to her, tell her he would never let her go.

If it meant she didn’t have to realise he’s spent the night with someone else the fucking day after she had kissed him.

And as if she hadn’t been through enough between her imbecile fiancé and her idiot general, her father was dying.

Jack kicked sharply at the concrete wall, welcoming the stab of pain in his foot.

Rather that than the agony in his chest.

Sighing, he sagged against the wall of the gallery above sick bay, looking down at Jacob’s bed where she hovered and the Tok’ra leaders gathered.

With a pang of guilt, he caught sight of the time. More than five hours had passed since he had left Kerry at his house with a grill full of charred steaks and a table groaning under uneaten salads, mumbling excuses as he grabbed his truck’s keys and followed Sam to the base. He hadn’t even bothered to find out what was wrong with her father. It didn't matter. He needed to be with her.

He tugged his phone out of his pocket, flipped it open, stared at the screen. Closed it again. He didn’t know what to say. And he wouldn’t lie to Kerry. She was too good for that.

When the Tok’ra leaders started filing out, he pushed himself upright, galvanised to action. Halfway to the gate room, he met the group and Sam.

“I can take them from here, Colonel, if you want to stay with your father.”

It was the one thing he could do to help her.

Shadows that hadn’t been there this morning smudged under her eyes, staining them darker blue.

“Thank you, Sir,” she murmured, her eyes not quite meeting his.

In the cramped concrete corridor, the four visitors took turns to embrace her. Distractedly, Jack wondered if she knew how much of the warmth in the Tok’ra’s relationship with earth was a result of her quiet openness to their ways.

He swallowed the lump growing in his throat.

By the time he reached the viewing gallery again, Jacob had all but slipped into a coma, his lips barely moving as Sam clasped her father’s hand and leaned in close to hear him. Jack’s back found the spot against the door jamb from where he could just make out their two heads, giving them both as much privacy as he could without having to let her out of his sight.

About half an hour later, she straightened, turned, looked straight up at him, and left her father’s bed.

Before his feet could find direction, she was in front of him. For this first time since that evening in the car park, they were alone.

“Carter, do you want me to clear out?”

She shook her head quickly, only twice, as if even the small movement tired her, and walked past him to the bench closest to the window. She sank down, steepling her elbows on her knees and hunching forward.

He ached to hold her. Moving slowly, not wanting to disturb the silence, he followed her.

She didn’t budge when he sat down next to her, a hand’s breadth separating them.

He took in the scene below, mimicking her.

“OK,” he spoke once his voice felt steady enough. “I’ll stay till you ask me to go.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her lips curving into a sad smile.

She moved without sound. In the space of a breath, the distance between them was gone, her thigh warm against his.

Jack closed his eyes and released a breath.

He would stay until she asked him to go.


	4. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can still have everything you want," her father had said, glancing up at Jack, as if he knew.
> 
> And, she realised in that quiet moment that stretched into forever, that she already did.
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter looks into Sam's heart during the part of the episode of Threads when she says goodbye to her father in the infirmary.
> 
> I've tried something new - to write around the exact words and events of the episode.  
> I hope it speaks to some of you.
> 
> Unicorns, there are no trigger warnings here. It is a moment of calm in a stormy sea for Sam. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. And thank you for being you.  
> xo
> 
> \--oOo--

*Sam*

It was strange to feel peace in the midst of such loss.

She knew the calm that came to her under fire, of course. But that was because she could control the outcome. Nothing she could do would bring her father back. She had no way to make Daniel reappear.

Striving, pushing, fighting, was the only thing she knew. Chasing the prize. The job, the PhD, the victory. The family.

She had spent her life too busy moving to see the beauty around her. But she had nothing left to do but hold her father’s hand.

In the whirring, beeping infirmary loudness, stillness settled heavy in her bones.

It was all so simple.

She was grateful.

She had gained four precious years with her father.

She got to do a job that made being an astronaut look downright dull.

And every day, she was surrounded by love. From Teal’c, and Janet, and the hundred other people who passed her in the corridors with smiles. And from the man in the gallery.

 _You can still have everything you want,_ her father had said, glancing up at Jack, as if he knew.

And, she realised in that quiet moment that stretched into forever, that she already did.

She loved him, and she got to work beside him. She didn’t have to hide any part of herself from him. She didn’t want a wedding. Not really. She wanted to share her life with the man she loved, to spend her days doing something meaningful. And she already had that.

When the Tok’ra priest came in to deliver Selmack’s afterlife blessing, she slipped out of the room and found her feet carrying her towards the viewing gallery.

She was too exhausted to explain. And with him, she knew she didn’t need to.

His solid body next to hers, his arm around her shoulder, they anchored her.

 _Always,_ he had said when she thanked him for being with her under the mountain on a Saturday evening.

_Always._

When her father’s heart fell silent, she kissed his forehead one last time. Floating beside her body, she turned off the monitors. They served no more purpose now.

Jack was standing in the doorway when she looked up.

“Can I drive you home?” He asked quietly.

“Thank you, Sir, but I’m all right. I can drive myself.”

“I know,” he smiled from under brown eyes etched with care.

Two days ago at O’Malley’s, Pete had offered to drive her home, and she had bristled. Because, from Pete, it was a gesture of possession, just another way to own her.

She closed her eyes, wet her lips with her tongue.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind, Sir.”

His arm settled around her shoulder and didn’t leave it until they reached the locker room.

The moon was full in the Autumn sky, dusting trees and homes with silver. It was beautiful.

In the cocoon of his closeness, she let her tears flow unchecked.

His hand reached for hers. No words. Just a gentle squeeze as he drove on.

He didn’t ask to come in, simply stepped through her front door.

His fingers closed softly on her hand and led her to her bedroom.

Without clicking on the light, he drew back the covers and waited for her to get in before pulling them back over her.

His palm grazed her forehead as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

He straightened up to leave.

She didn’t want him to go.

Her hand clamped around his wrist.

Words warred in her throat.

“Stay?” Was all she could force out.

The moonlight picked out the shadows of his smile.

“Scoot over,” he whispered.

His arms wrapped her in safety. He pulled her head into the crook of his shoulder and stroked her hair as she surrendered to the peace of exhausted sleep.


	5. Landmine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can't change the way she feels  
> But you could put your arms around her  
> I know you want to live yourself  
> But could you forgive yourself  
> If you left her just the way  
> You found her  
> I stand in front of you  
> I'll take the force of the blow  
> Protection"  
> \- Massive Attack

*Jack*

Grief is a war-torn land.

Outsiders see the shattered buildings, the burnt-out cars, and shake their heads in sympathy.

But only those who live there know the true terror lies buried under newly-greened fields. Landmines that wait for you to step out of your scorched corner and rip your world to pieces all over again in one unguarded second.

Jack had learned the hard way to live in charred safety. Sure, the sunlight playing on the distant grass was beautiful. But his time for beauty was done. And every time he tried again, a few hesitant steps in, it had blown up in his face.

The night after Charlie, after Charlie’s… he still couldn’t bring himself to say it.

That night, he had reached for Sara, but she had rolled away. And he had deserved it.

It had been his gun, and it had been in his desk drawer, not locked away.

All the women since her had had to deal with an empty bed after sex. Invariably, they didn’t like that, thought it meant he didn’t care. It was easier, he found. Better for them to think he’d simply wanted to use them.

Yet here he was, feeling the slow rise and fall of her chest against him as she slept, exhausted, in his arms.

Bracing for the pain of the explosion.

She stirred, moaned. Blue eyes fluttered open.

“You’re okay. Go back to sleep,” he whispered.

With a sigh, she sagged further into him and her breathing slowed.

The moon arced its way through the sky as she slept on, its light slipping away and leaving the room in total darkness.

Movement pulled him out of restless dreams.

“What time is it? How long have I been asleep?”

Her breath warmed his throat.

“Doesn’t matter. You need to rest.”

“You haven’t eaten. Can I make you a sandwich?” Her words were fat and drowsy.

“What? No. It’s the middle of the night, Carter.”

But he recognised her words. Doing something - anything - that linked this loss-shrouded limbo to normal life, provided an anchor. The morning after Charlie, he’d reorganised the Christmas ornaments. It was August.

“I can hear your stomach growling, sir. And I’d rather not end up like that guy in Hadante prison who went for the food ahead of you. You’re scarier than usual when you’re hungry.”

He knew this move, too. For months after Charlie, he would talk only about hockey. Mindless anecdotes about past matches became his language. Because that way, he could speak without breaking.

In the pit of his stomach, he felt the tremor starting. The explosion was coming. But he wouldn’t leave her to face her landmines alone. Not if it killed him.

He forced lightness into his tone to cover the building dread.

“Hey, I was getting the food for you! Have you seen yourself when you’re hangry?”

She snorted, playing along. “I don’t get hangry.”

“Hmm-hmm?” He shot back. “That’s because I never let you. I’ve seen what you can do a sun when you’re well fed. I know not to take chances.”

She huffed a low laugh and shook her head against his shoulder. Her palm came to rest over his heart. Her legs nudged closer.

Slowly, her hand slid down, tracing the outline of his ribs, slipping under the hem of his shirt to rest on his skin.

His breath hitched.

The tremor in his heart was building, screaming danger. But he didn’t want her to stop.

Fingers traced the flat planes of his stomach, the soft hair on his chest.

The air thrummed with her presence.

Taking shallow sips of air, he let his hands flow down the peaks and valleys of her spine.

Silent in the blackness, she arched her back up, lifted her shirt over her head, found the hem of his shirt by touch, tugged it up and off.

Her legs, her hips, moved against him. Her lips pressed against the skin of his collar bone.

She was stepping on a landmine. He was her landmine. He would damage her when his job was to shield her from pain.

“Sam.” His voice was strangled.

She lay down on top of him, skin on skin, her mouth hot on his lips.

“Jack.”

Landmines are the cruelest weapons, because they warn you. You feel the earth shaking. You know what’s coming. But you can’t outrun the damage once you’ve set it off.

His name on her lips blew apart his control.

His arms tightened around her, drawing her to him, shielding her from the night, the pain, the emptiness. He offered her his body as protection.

With a moan, she pushed closer, fumbled at their jeans, kicked off the covers. And she was above him, his length in her hand, guiding him inside her.

The frantic rush slowed.

He reached for her and pulled her close, cradling her to him, raining kisses on her eyelids, her cheeks while he moved inside her.

Grief was a country he inhabited alone, but tonight she lived there too. And as their hands tightened on each other, their hips thrust harder, the destroyed landscape around him faded and was replaced with her.

Their cheeks were salty with tears, their bodies soft with understanding. And in his heart, under the fear, a seed of hope pushed through the blackened soil.


	6. Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, he felt ready to speak again.
> 
> “While you’re at the base, I’ll go pick up food and tea, beer, things like that. By my guess, you’ll be facing a stream of people here this afternoon.”
> 
> “Thank you,” she sighed,
> 
> Her shoulders stiffened.
> 
> “I’ll give you a set of keys, um, in case.” She pulled back a fraction. “I need to stop off on the way back to talk to Pete.”
> 
> \--oOo--

Sunlight was soft on his face, her skin was silk in his arms. He opened his eyes to her peacefully sleeping face, and closed them again. He never wanted the moment to end.

But doubt, black-tipped and sharp, crowded in. She had wanted it — yes. She had wanted _him._ The memory sent a thrill down his spine and into his groin. But it’s easy to stumble over a line in the darkness. Different in the light of day.

As if she sensed his growing dread, she stirred.

Eyes the pale blue of the morning sky met his in a silent question.

Helpless to do anything as she rebuilt the memories of the day before, desperate for her not to shrink back in horror from what she’d done, _what he had let her do when he was meant to be protecting her,_ he raised a clumsy hand and stroked her hair.

The smile that dimpled her cheeks dripped honey into his heart. His entire body tingled with relief and wonder.

God, the things she could do him with a look.

It was miraculous.

And, he realised as the evidence of his feelings made itself very much known against the enticing warmth of her belly, downright embarrassing.

He tried to shuffle backwards, but their legs were so entwined that the only effect was to rub against her, to feel the heat of her core against his thigh.

God.

“Uh, sorry, I…” he mumbled.

_Truth, Jack._

He swallowed.

“You’re beautiful,” he sighed.

Her cheeks flushed dark pink and she buried her head in the crook of his neck.

_Did she really notknow that? How?_

Soft lips pressed into the spot above his collar bone. He’d never even noticed its existence except once when he broke it and it had hurt like hell. Suddenly, it was the most exquisitely sensitive part of his body. Okay, with one exception that twitched at her touch to remind him.

He wanted to trap them in amber, to slow down the world and make the moment last forever. But the day after, the rest of the world wanted to check in, to help. He remembered that all too clearly. The phone calls would start soon. She had a long day ahead of her.

“Hey beautiful,” he spoke into her hair, “I’m gonna need to share you with other people today. So we’d better get up.”

The soft huff of her laugh made his heart skip.

“Can I make you that sandwich now?”

She slid away from him, and he ached with the loss.

“That’d be swell.”

He hoped the sadness didn’t leak into his words. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the day would take her away from him. That tonight he wouldn’t feel her in his arms.

She was engaged to someone else, for fuck’s sake.

She crouched down on the floor on the way to the bathroom, then straightened, pulling his T-shirt over her head. It skimmed the tops of her thighs in a way that made him groan. He would never be able to wear that shirt again without thinking of her.

Mercifully, she was already headed to the bathroom, trailing words behind her though the open door: “I’ve got spare toiletries in here if you want to have a shower. I’ll get started on breakfast so long.”

“Thanks, Carter,”

He let out a shaky breath when she disappeared down the corridor. The landmine hadn’t exploded for her yet. Every minute that she stayed intact was a victory. But the tension in his chest stretched tauter. It was unbearably close. He could sense it.

Stifling a sigh, he stamped into the bathroom.

The smell of coffee and the sound of her voice greeted him when he padded into the kitchen, barefoot, bare-chested.

She cradled the phone against her right shoulder and cupped a steaming mug in both hands, the sideways tilt of her head pulling his shirt higher so that the crease and swell of her left ass cheek peeked at him.

He swallowed down the urge to run his fingers along the gentle curve, to open his hands wide around their perfect shape, to pull her against him so he could feel the heat at her core again.

With a shy smile, she set her cup down and crossed the space towards the coffee machine and waiting mug.

“Thank you Janet. It means so much,” she spoke into the receiver as she poured coffee and stirred in sugar.

“No, no, General O’Neill brought me home.”

Her hand was coffee-warm when she handed him the mug and gestured towards the bread, the toaster, the plates laid out on the counter. Next to the stove top half a dozen eggs and a pack of bacon waited, making his stomach shout in agreement.

“No, I’ll go in soon. I guess there must be paperwork? I... I just left last night.”

The falter in her voice snapped his head up. A corner of her bottom lip was caught under her top teeth. A muscle jumped in her jaw.

He stepped closer automatically.

She shook her head, and he stopped, unsure if it was aimed at him or at the doctor on the phone.

“Outside, in a private chapel, I think,” she spoke on. “My brother and his family didn’t know he’d changed assignments. I think it would be easier for them not to come to the SGC.”

She nodded to herself, pulled a small pad with cheerful yellow-edged pages headed _Shopping List_ closer and wrote on it as she listened.

_Undertaker_

_Chapel_

_Memorial invitations_

_Will_

The coffee turned to bile in his mouth. His mug hit the counter with more force than he intended.

She glanced at him, set her pencil down and walked around the counter to him. Her arm curled around his bare waist, her body settling reassuringly against his chest. Comforting him.

He wrapped her in his arms while she spoke on.

“Maybe this afternoon? I would be lovely to see Cassie, if it won’t bring back too many memories for her. Thanks, Janet. Bye.”

She clicked the phone off and let her head sag against his chest.

“Are you okay, sir? This… You must have memories.”

“I’m fine, Carter. Eat something and I’ll run ya back to the SGC for your car.”

The words were easy. But he couldn’t bring himself to let her go.

Rather than pull away, she stepped in closer, putting her other arm around him.

He dropped his head onto her shoulder and waited for the acid churning in his stomach to settle.

Finally, he felt ready to speak again.

“While you’re at the base, I’ll go pick up food and tea, beer, things like that. By my guess, you’ll be facing a stream of people here this afternoon.”

“Thank you,” she sighed,

Her shoulders stiffened.

“I’ll give you a set of keys, um, in case.” She pulled back a fraction. “I need to stop off on the way back to talk to Pete.”

A wave of acid spilled from his stomach into his mouth, making him gag.

_Why was this so fucking hard to accept? She wore the man’s goddamn ring! And when she’d clearly reached out to him, weeks ago, before accepting, he had stubbornly refused to tell her how he felt. Because she deserved a family she could bring to barbecues, not a damaged heart._

He loosened numb arms, stepped back, glared at the floor.

“Of course, Carter. I’ll pop the groceries in the fridge and give the two of you space.”

“What? Jack, no! That’s - last night? What?”

The sprig of green in his heart shrivelled.

“Sam.” He forced out the words he couldn’t bear to say, but had to.

_Truth, Jack._

“You’re marrying him. I had no right.”

Her feet appeared between his on the floor.

“Look at me,” she demanded.

He did what she asked, but he couldn’t erase the pain straining his mouth into a grimace.

Her eyes flashed fury at him.

This was it. This was his landmine.

“I’m supposed to be marrying him, and I don’t want him here. I want you here. I’m seeing him because I need to give his ring back. Because he’s a good man and he deserves better than to spend his life with someone who thinks he’s second best. If you don’t feel the same, so be it. But I’m done lying.”

In the charred landscape that his heart called home, the last standing shell of a building crumpled to a pile of dust. Nothing was left of the shattered walls he had so carefully defended.

And in the billowing clouds of dust, a ray of sun broke through.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Well, good!” The anger still simmered in her words, sitting strangely on top of her trembling smile, the tears glistening in her eyes.. “Because I love you too. And it’s about time you kissed me.”

And this time, he had no trouble doing what she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry.
> 
> It's not the end yet.
> 
> xo


	7. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “OK. I sense a team dinner coming on. Teal’c in his funny hat, steaks on the grill, yer grouchy boss holding forth drunkenly until the family gives up in disgust and goes to bed.”
> 
> “Sir, you don’t have to.”
> 
> “I know, Carter. But I want to.”
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mini-chapter written as an ode to Jack and his beautiful way of caring from the shadows.
> 
> Because today needed fluff.
> 
> And because I didn't want @lilianbones to wake up without an update! ;)
> 
> I hope this brings you a smile, unicorns. And I hope you have someone to hug when you feel like drowning.
> 
> xo

*Sam*

“So, Janet and Cassie this afternoon. Anyone else you’re expecting over that I should shop for? Vegans? Crazy alien life forms? Apart from the vegans, I mean.”

Sam swivelled her head against the seat of his truck to look at the man who had quietly held her together for the past twenty-four hours. Even when he thought she would sleep with him and still marry someone else.

She shook the thought out of her head.

“My brother and his wife.”

She tried not to turn the phrase into a sigh. But, as she expected, he heard.

His mouth hardened. “They staying with you?”

She nodded before realising his eyes were on the road leading back to the mountain, and tried again.

“Yeah. I mean, the alternative is to stay in dad’s apartment and it just didn’t seem right.”

He nodded thoughtfully.

“Are you and your brother close?”

She couldn’t help a grimace.

“Not really. Thing is, the man I have known as a father for the past four years is so different from the one he knew. And even before Selmack —“ she shrugged her feelings into words — “dad let him be, let him do what he wanted with his career. He always pushed me. And so dad, old dad, was always disappointed with me, never with Mark.”

“Carter. His chest just about split open with pride that first time I met him in DC. No way was he disappointed in you. He wanted you to shine. That was clear. But that was because he saw how brilliant you were.”

She caught her lip under her teeth.

“I know it came from a good place. But Mark just saw dad caring more about my career than about his. And then, when dad joined the Tok’ra. Well, it didn’t exactly help Mark’s ideas about me being the favourite child.”

HIs hand left the steering wheel to squeeze her fingers.

“When’re they arriving?”

“Probably early evening.”

“OK. I sense a team dinner coming on. Teal’c in his funny hat, steaks on the grill, yer grouchy boss holding forth drunkenly until the family gives up in disgust and goes to bed.”

“Sir, you don’t have to.”

“I know, Carter. But I want to.”

He steered them carefully around a corner. She’d seen him drive the hell out of military cruisers and fly combat jets, but when she was in the passenger seat of his truck, he drove like an accountant.

“Carter, I wanna make a rule.”

“Okay, sir?”

His mouth twitched at the tarmac.

“This isn’s a ‘ _sir’_ rule. It’s a ‘ _surviving the week’_ rule. You up for one of those?”

“Okay?” She answered uncertainly.

“OK. For the rest of the week, I’m gonna hover. I won’t be able to stop that. But tell me to go, and I’ll go. No questions asked. But I’ll be back a couple hours later.”

She frowned at him. His jaw was tight, but she couldn’t read his expression.

“Why?” She asked softly.

“Because I remember the week after. I know something that should be normal, should be easy, will suddenly make you feel as if you’re drowning in concrete. I know sometimes you’ll need space and sometimes you’ll appreciate having someone to hold you.”

He glanced at her, and quickly back at the road.His throat moved as he swallowed.

“The rule is I’m not allowed to ask why. Or to disagree.”

His fingers flexed around the steering wheel, dancing to the motion of his throat.

“Stop the car, Jack.”

Her words were barely a whisper.

His head snapped around to her, even as he slowed on the deserted road.

“Here?” He asked.

She nodded. “Here. Pull over.”

The tyres ground onto the gravel of the shoulder.

As he cut the ignition, he loosened his seatbelt, twisted to face her.

She was already out of the door, covering the distance to his side.

“Sam?” He caught her against him with one arm. His fingers feathered the edge of her face.

She weaved her hands into his hair.

“Kiss me,” she spoke against his lips. “Kiss me so I can remember your taste when I’m drowning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, Vegans and Accountants in the house, stand up!   
> I'm a vegetarian who has just never quite had the courage to go full vegan, and my mom was a maths teacher.
> 
> So pelt me with cabbages, but know that I'm not laughing at you, I promise. I'm laughing with you!
> 
> I love you, my wonderful, worldwide family of S/J unicorns.


	8. No apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic gripped her throat. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to be here.
> 
> Wet concrete, the thought flashed brightly into her scrabbling mind. This is how it feels.
> 
> Her hand flew to her neck.
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @Moreta1770, who saw me with compassion.
> 
> And for everyone who sometimes struggles to breathe.
> 
> Do what you need to do to get to tomorrow.  
> No apologies.  
> xo

Smoke from the fire drifted lazily into the evening sky, bringing softness to the close of a never-ending day.

Sam took a slow pull from her beer and leaned back in her chair, letting her eyelids droop as Teal’c, Mark, Claire and Jack spoke around her in fitful gusts of conversation.

 _Drowning in wet concrete,_ he had told her this morning. She hadn’t drowned yet, but the concrete was there, all right.

In the pit of her stomach.

Swirling around her feet.

Slowing everything down.

Time had passed at a trickle since he dropped her at the base. Every step seemed to take longer than expected, but still it wasn’t enough to make the day pass.

And it was as if someone had wrapped cotton around her emotions. Nothing felt real. Nothing felt… _at all._

She found herself ticking items off her list. Items that should have rocked her.

_Tell the family_

_Tell his friends_

_Arrange for the body to be transferred to a private undertaker_

_Leave Pete_

But everything was muffled.

The whole time she was at the base, she thought it would get more real when she handed back the ring. But other than the dull drag of guilt, she’d felt nothing even then. Janet and Cassie’s visit would be better, she thought while talking to Pete. Yet she had simply gone through the motions with them too, only really rising from her stupor when Cass had hugged her desperately goodbye. It was an unexpected lightness in her chest.

She wished she could be alone with Jack, to ask him what drowning in concrete felt like. To ask him why surviving the week was so important. Why a week? If anyone would know, it would be him.

Though if they ever had time alone again, the truth was she would probably not want to speak. She leaned away from the conversation even further and remembered the way he had held her that morning, the sun warm on her back, the wind playing through her hair, his nearness all she needed to feel peace.

To feel.

“Is Pete on duty tonight? I expected he would join us.”

Claire’s question brought Sam jolting back to earth.

_Shit. It was time._

“No.”

She placed her bottle on the table, wet her lips with her tongue. Wiped suddenly clammy hands on her jeans.

“Pete and I broke up.” _I left him._

Her heart thudded into the tight silence. But still, she couldn’t feel anything more than the twist of guilt.

“I’m sure he’ll want to see you guys while you’re here,” she covered her sister-in-law’s shocked look with words, “and I’ll invite him to the memorial, of course.”

“I thought you were getting married! What happened”

Claire’s voice was high-pitched with disbelief.

Across the table, Mark’s expression hardened.

Sam sighed.

“Nothing happened. It just… wasn’t right.”

“Well it became not right pretty suddenly. Two days ago he bought a house for you.”

There was a nasty edge to Mark’s words.

Sam tried to shrug it off. Pete was Mark’s friend. Mark had set them up. But the knife hidden in her brother’s words was older than a blind date gone bad. It rang with echoes of their childhood.

“Well. Dad died. It put a new spin on a lot of things for me,” she said softly.

She glanced across the table towards Teal’c. This wasn’t a good conversation to have in front of him and Jack. But she was massively grateful for their presence. Mark wouldn’t release the full bitter force of his resentment in front of her colleagues.

“What, you get dad’s flat so you no longer need a man to buy you a house?”

So much for Mark holding back.

In the space of a breath, she was sixteen again, trying to shore the tide of resentful sarcasm that streamed at her from her younger brother, trying to fight off his pain with understanding.

“No, Mark. It wasn’t that at all. We don’t know who gets dad’s apartment. I haven’t seen the will. And I have a house. It had nothing to do with that.”

She licked her lips again, pushed on. Maybe he would understand, now that he was older.

“It was me. I — when I heard that dad was dying, I didn’t want Pete with me. And he deserves someone who wants him to share her darkest moments, not only the good times.”

Her fingers had twined around each other on her lap.

Mark barked a mirthless laugh. “Oh, come on. Since when did you ever need anyone? Samantha Carter, too clever and perfect to care about anyone but herself.”

A heavy fist landed on the table, making the cutlery on their plates jump.

“Enough!”

Sam had heard Jack angry, but only once before had he spoken with this level of menace. The last time, it had stopped an entire army in its tracks.

His words froze the air as he spoke on.

“I realise you lost your father, and we all deal with that in different ways. But if you choose to mourn by trash-talking your sister, you can do it from the comfort of a motel room.”

She sucked in a breath, trying stall the avalanche of sarcasm she saw building in Mark. But she was too late.

Her brother’s voice took on a snide, superior tone. The one she had heard junior officers use on cadets. Or police officers on teenagers.

“So your boss is fighting your battlesfor you now? When did that happen? And why is he even here? Is he your new lap dog since you tired of Pete?”

Panic gripped her throat. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to be here.

 _Wet concrete,_ the thought flashed brightly into her scrabbling mind. _This is how it feels._

Her hand flew to her neck.

“I’m here as Jacob’s colleague. You’re not the only one who lost someone yesterday, Mark.” The threat had left Jack’s voice, replaced instead by careful, hostage-negotiating calm. As soon as he finished speaking, he turned concerned eyes to her.

“Take a sip, Carter,” he murmured.

Shaking, she reached for her beer.

He was right. The liquid passing through her throat eased the spasm. A little air entered her lungs.

“Let me tell you something about your sister that you didn’t know, by the sound of things.” Jack’s voice was the blue-purple calm of the eye of a tornado.

“Four years ago, your father almost died. We had given up on him. He had given up on himself. But Sam wouldn’t give up until she found a way. Because she cared too much about him to let him die, even when he wanted to. She saved his life.”

Knives sliced at her chest.

She sucked in a sharp breath, bringing every eye at the table to her.

But she felt. At the memory of Selmak’s merging with her father, at Jack’s retelling of the day, she felt.

His eyes remained on her, soft brown in the porch light, as he spoke on.

“She saved my life, too. Four times, that I know of. Saved me because, when other people would give up and walk away, she refused to stop caring.”

Silence stretched for an endless second.

“So. More steak?” Jack speared a piece of flesh with a barbecue fork and waved it over the table. “Anyone?”

Claire’s giggle was shrill.

“No, I think I’ll head to bed actually!” She simpered. “It’s been a long drive for Mark, you know.”

“What a good idea,” Jack muttered as she pushed back her chair, before raising his voice with the unmistakeable ring of authority.

“Leave everything here and the two of you get ready for bed. Teal’c and I’ll help clean up before we go.”

Astonished, Sam watched as her brother threw his serviette onto his plate and stalked inside.

Teal’c pulled the dirty plates towards him without a word and carried the towering stack inside.

Jack’s chair scraped across the decking. His hand tugged at her’s, pulling her to her feet and into his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to his chest.

His fingers stroked her hair. With every slow pass, the pressure in her chest eased.

“There’s a second rule.” His voice rumbled against her as he spoke.

“This week, you’re not allowed to apologise. Not for your past, or for the things you need to do to keep breathing.”

Behind her, the heavy tread of Teat’s boots drew closer. She heard him gathering more dishes from the table. But she didn’t mind if he saw them.

She nodded.

No apologies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all have bad days sometimes.  
> But if you ever feel as if you can't get to tomorrow, please reach out.  
> To a friend, a family member, or to @pensivevet on Twitter.
> 
> You are not alone.


	9. To feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I get ya, Carter,” he murmured. “Nothin’ feels as bad as not feeling.”
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh! Why is writing so hard?
> 
> Unicorns, it's been a heckuva week. Sorry for being slow.  
> But I miss you, and I miss telling you their story. So I'm gonna try shorter chapters over the next while as an alternative to not giving you anything.
> 
> I hope you don't mind.  
> And I hope you're all keeping yourself and your energy levels safe.  
> xo
> 
> \--oOo--

*Sam*

“Carter.”

Jack’s chair scraped across the briefing room floor, closely followed by Teal’c and Bra’tak’s.

“We didn’t expect you here.”

Three men, two of them her superiors, stood upon her entry.

Sam’s ring fingers pressed into her thumbprints, stilling her disquiet.

“I hoped I could be helpful.”

Her words sounded so childish in the SGC. For the umpteenth time that afternoon, she straightened the jacket of her dress blues, like a first year cadet.

“You sure will, Colonel. Take a seat.”

“Only if you will, sir,” she huffed a nervous laugh.

Moving through treacle, she sat down in the empty seat at Jack’s right elbow and listened to what had happened in the past three days as she dealt with the fallout of her father’s death; while Anubis continued his inexorable march towards the destruction of Dakara and the galaxy.

Twice, she found his worried eyes on her while she scribbled notes on the briefing pad. Notes she would normally memorise as a matter of course.

In the hours after the funeral, writing gave her purpose, if only for a moment. Purpose brought calm. But every time she enacted a ritual that brought her comfort, he noticed.

The third time she reached for the pen, she caught her hand, lifted it, pressed the nail of her ring finger hard into her thumb.

It didn’t help. His brown eyes remained on her.

At least, by the end of the meeting, she had something to do. Her calculations on realigning the weapons were done within twenty minutes, it was true, but for that short time she had meant something.

She stayed behind, double checking trajectories that had already been used, simply because the alternative was emptiness.

“Carter?”

His voice at her laboratory door startled her out of her reverie.

“Come in, Sir,”

“Still here?”

Like her, he hadn’t changed out of his dress blues after attending her father’s funeral.

The past three days had been a blur of family fights and tributes from friends. All she really wanted, while the executor read the will on Monday, while she sent the invitations for the funeral, while she stepped through the gate yesterday to attend Selmak’s memorial with the Tok’ra and travelled back again, laden with their tributes, was to feel.

Someting.

Anything.

Even grief.

“Sam?”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

“Sorry, sir. I’m just caught up in my report.”

His chin lifted in a thoughtful reverse nod as he stepped up to her desk.

“Your calculations already worked, you know. I won’t understand the explanations behind them anyway, so there’s no loss in leaving the report for tomorrow,”

She huffed a hollow laugh.

“Thank you, sir. I just. I know it’s been a big day. But being here, doing my job. It makes me feel —“

Brown eyes bored into her.

They spotted her lie.

“No, not feel,” she admitted to the man she trusted above everyone. Above even her father. “But it makes me think I’m making a difference. It’s the best I can do, sir. Better than changing the linen on the spare bed after Mark and Claire left. Better than washing the hundred teacups and binning the thousand curling sandwiches left in my kitchen by mourners.”

His glance at the security camera in the corner was so quick, it seemed coincidental, but when he stepped closer, he placed his body directly between it and her. His hand covered hers, tugging it off the computer mouse and shielding it from the camera as he rubbed his thumb slowly across her palm.

“I get ya, Carter,” he murmured. “Nothin’ feels as bad as not feeling.”

She tweaked her lips in uncomfortable acknowledgement.

“You know what I wish I could feel right now?”

His eyes held hers captive as he whispered the question, and didn’t leave her face as he spoke on.

“I wish I could feel how soft your lips are when I run my thumb over them.”

Her eyes widened.

“I wish I could stand behind you, slide my hands up under your jacket and push it off your shoulders, feel the hair on the back of your neck rise whin I kiss you there.”

Her lips parted under his words.

“I wish I could feel the goosebumps on your skin when I unbutton your shirt and run my tongue down…”

Her eyes fluttered closed.

“Sir,”

“Carter?”

His thumb drifted to her wrist, settled over her racing pulse.

She swallowed, wet her lips.

“Maybe I can finish the report tomorrow.”

“That’s the second best idea you’ve had all day, colonel. Apart from, you know, angling the nukes to take out the gate relays. That one was kinda cool.”

Somehow, he always made her smile.

Holding on to the physical sensations, to the small bubble of lightness his words had brought her, she opened her eyes again.

The care in his face was etched so deep she had to drop her gaze.

“You got a change of clothes here?” He asked softly.

She nodded at his hand on hers.

“Good,” he murmured as his thumb continued its slow, mesmerising path across her palm. “Will ya do me a favour? Bring it with you, and come straight to my place. Leave the spare room and the dishes for tonight. I’ll help you clean up tomorrow. Just come be with me tonight.”


	10. To want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked at her as if she was precious, when she felt damaged, weak for giving in.
> 
> She couldn’t bear the wonder in his eyes.
> 
> “Carter. Hey.”
> 
> The tenderness of his kiss cut a swathe through her self-loathing.
> 
> “You have that effect on me too, Every fucking day.”
> 
> \--oOo--

She couldn’t bring herself to climb the three steps to his front door.

Pathetic.

She was pathetic.

She was still in the clothes she had worn to her father’s funeral, Anubis was bearing down on the galaxy, and instead of mourning him, instead of doing something useful, she was here, running like a teenager to feel his lips against her skin.

For the past three days, from the moment the executor read the will on Monday morning until thecoffin disappeared under roses and dirt this afternoon, all she had wanted was to feel something.

Hovering in the darkness on his doorstep, she felt, alright.

Felt stupid. Guilty. Out of line.

He was the fucking commander of the SGC. What was she doing, expecting him to comfort her?

The door swung open, casting yellow light over her, making her flinch.

He’d taken off his jacket, and in the soft light his white shirt glowed against his tanned skin. Two beer bottles clinked against each other in his left hand.

“Here works just as well as anywhere,” he said with a half-smile as he closed the front door behind him and sank down on the step next to her feet. He transferred one bottle to his right hand and took a long pull.

Silently, he held the remaining beer up to her.

With a defeated sigh, she dropped her overnight bag and sat down.

The beer was cold and sharp, the bitterness cutting pleasantly at her throat after days of milky tea and sandwiches.

“Tastes good,” she admitted to the darkness of his garden, unwilling yet to face him with the weight of guilt gnawing at her gut. She loved him. He had said he loved her. But the uniform reminded her that he had a base to run. She wasn’t meant to be here.

“Plenty more where that came from.” His shoulder bumped gently against hers. “And pizza. The gourmet, frozen kind.”

In the cool night air, she could feel his body radiating heat. She craved his touch. Her chest ached with want.

It was too much.

She was losing control.

Abruptly, she stood.

“I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t be here. I’ll go.”

He loomed in front of her before she could take a step away, solid and reassuring. His right hand settled softly on her hip, under the jacket that had felt too short all day. The ball of his left thumb rubbed over her lower lip, backwards and forwards, drawing her breath into his rhythm, pooling fire in her belly. His left hand slipped up her back, raising goose flesh. A whimper escaped her, blowing hot against his thumb.

“I want you, Carter.” His words were barely a whisper. “I want you to let go of everything except what feels good. I’ll catch you. I’ll keep you safe.”

Despite her guilt, her eyelids dropped, her lips parted. She stepped in closer.

His mouth traced the line of her neck, gentle as a night wind, His body was hot and hard against her.

She wanted his mouth on her lips, wanted the taste of him. She turned her head, searching.

His arm was iron, holding her against him as his lips moved lower, pulling open the buttons of her blouse with his teeth, running his tongue over the swell of her breasts.

She moaned, and he pressed his thumb between her lips, groaning as she sucked it in.

Her skirt was taut against her thighs. She moved her hips restlessly against him, desperate for more.

_I’ll catch you,_ he had said. _I’ll keep you safe._ And despite the guilt coiling in her heart, she trusted him. She let go of everything except the feeling of him against her, the thrill of his skin.

She tangled her fingers through his hair, pulled his head up and poured her longing into her kiss.

“Christ, Sam.”

She could feel the heat of his need as her hips rocked against him, so close to losing herself in him.

“Wait,” he growled. “Inside.”

He twisted to scoop up her bag, half-carrying her up the steps, flinging the door open, kicking it shut.

Her hands were already on the buttons of his shirt, hungry for his skin. His palms slid up her thighs, smooth against her tights. Her skirt bunched around her waist, she wrapped her leg around his hips, pulling him nearer. His stubble grazed her chest, her arms. His lips closed over her nipple, teasing, sucking, nipping, until she shook with pleasure.

Suddenly, he slowed, breathing hard. Fighting for control. But she didn’t want control. She wanted him inside her, needed him inside her, obliterating everything with his presence.

She reached for his trousers, pulled the stiff material aside, took his throbbing length in her hand.

His eyes bored into hers. Breathing hard, he hooked his fingers over the top of her tights and dragged them down her legs. They tangled in a mess at her feet. His knees popped as he knelt down to ease them over her heels and feet. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he ran his hands up her bare legs, cupping her butt.

“Sam.” His eyes were back on her face as she rocked on to him, moaning as he filled her.

“Sam.”

_I’ll keep you safe,_ his words echoed as his arms held her close and he moved inside her, faster and faster until they both shuddered into stillness.

Sweat cooled on her skin. His arms were a warm barrier from the chill of the wall. She opened her eyes, lifted her head to find him watching her and dropped it back onto his shoulder with a self-conscious smile.

Reluctantly, she unravelled her leg, whimpering as he slipped away.

“Sam?”

She looked up into worried brown eyes.

“You okay?”

She licked her lips, surveying their scattered clothes. Five minutes ago, she had told him she couldn’t be here. He made her forget herself.

_I’ll catch you._

“Sorry.” She flushed, unable to stop the grimace. “You have that effect on me.”

He brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead.

“That’s one thing you _never_ need to apologise for.”

She breathed him in. Twice before this past week, he had made her lose the control she wore as a daily shield. But it had always been in the dark. She hadn’t had to see the way he looked at her in the aftermath.

He looked at her as if she was precious, when she felt damaged, weak for giving in.

She couldn’t bear the wonder in his eyes.

“Carter. Hey.”

The tenderness of his kiss cut a swathe through her self-loathing.

“You have that effect on me too, Every fucking day.”

He cradled her to his chest, his steady heartbeat cooling the heat in her cheeks. Shielding her. How did he know her so well?

“I’d actually drawn you a bath.” His voice rumbled through his chest. “Do ya feel like a soak in the tub, or do you want to eat?”

“Do I have to choose?” She asked without thinking.

It was his closeness, the recklessness of letting go of herself in his arms, that let her say things she would normally keep to herself.

All he did was chuckle. “Of course. The rest of us live around the sun. You blow it up.”

“One time. I blew up _one_ sun,” she grumbled, but a shaft of happiness pierced her heart.

His laughter shook her again. She never wanted to be away from him.

“You don’t have to choose. Pizza in the tub it is. C’mon. Let’s get ya soaking”

She sank into bubbles that smelt of him.

She’d hung back shyly, taking off the remnants of her clothes, as he bent over the tub, topping up the hot water, refreshing the thick layer of heather-scented bubbles, before solemnly holding out his hand to help her step in.

There were scars on his back she’d never seen.

As tendrils of steam rose around her, he’d kissed her forehead.

“Don’t go anywhere while I’m in the kitchen, ok?”

She’d grabbed his fingers, reluctant to let him go.

As he’d left her, she’d forced the fear aside, making herself revel in the memory of his body.

“Dinner time. Scoot over.”

His voice drew her out of her floating reverie. In one hand, he held a bubbling pizza. Two fresh beers dangled from the other. He pulled two stools closer, placing the food and drink on them, before nudging her forward. His skin was cold as he slid in behind her.

It was so comfortable, so right. As if they’d been doing this for years.

“How’re those tense muscles?” His hands slid along her shoulders, making her groan and lean into him.

She never wanted to be away from his touch.

But she could feel his stomach grumbling against her back.

With a laugh she pulled a slice of pizza off the wheel and held it to his mouth before taking a bite.

His arms snaked around her middle as he took another bite out of her hands.

The past week felt as unreal as the steam shrouding them.

_I want you to let go of everything except what feels good,_ he had said. _I’ll catch you. I’ll keep you safe._

It was as if he had spoken her deepest need into existence.

“You know, you’ve made life hard for yourself.” She slid her fingers between his under the water.

“How so?” He nuzzled his lips into her hair.

“Well, this is the best date I’ve ever had. I don’t know how you’re going to top it.”

He pulled her closer.

“Ya heat up one frozen pizza and everyone thinks you can walk on water.”

Her father’s words.

She twisted to face him.

“He told you about that?”

He grinned his crooked grin. “He may have.”

She huffed a laugh. “God, you know, Mark had it wrong. I wasn’t his favourite child. You were. By far.”

His face pulled into sudden, bitter sadness.

“I should have been there with you, Sam. I shouldn’t have let you face the last three days alone.”

“What? No. You were running the SGC. You were where you were supposed to be. Where you had to be.”

HIs mouth twitched into a smile, but his eyes remained locked in sadness.

“I should have been there with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, and the words still run when they see me coming.
> 
> But your words, your comments, make me want to come out of the cocoon and try again.
> 
> Thank you for all your care.
> 
> You make me feel precious when I feel damaged.  
> xo


	11. To lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can’t do this, Jack,” she had pleaded, desperately. “I won’t let you!”
> 
> His fist on the desk had yanked her to standing.
> 
> A torrent of hard rage had poured at her.
> 
> “You won’t let me what, Colonel?”
> 
> \--oOo--

A single yellow rose and a note lay on her front door mat.

The lancing pain that had stabbed through her heart all day redoubled. The freedom of her bike and the open road, the burning in her muscles after a hard sparring session at gym, nothing had truly locked it away.

For three days, all she had wanted was to feel. And today that wish was granted. But this was not a feeling she wanted. She wanted to tear at her chest, to cut out the pain of his loss. But it was too late. And it had been her fault. Her fault for wanting to hold on. Her fault for forgetting herself.

She crouched and picked up the flower and the note with shaking hands.

The rose smelled faintly of Summer, the way roses from a garden did. Not those cultivated to have perfect, straight stems and harmless thorns. Real ones.

He had a bush of yellow roses in his garden.

She didn’t need to see the writing to know it was from him.

She turned the folded sheet of paper over and over in her hands.

Maybe if she didn’t read it, the loss would not be real. If she could pretend she hadn’t seen it. That the Autumn wind had blown it away.

Perhaps if she could talk to him again, she wouldn’t fuck it up and… And she wouldn’t have lost him. She couldn’t bear the thought of facing him across the briefing room table, seeing the hardness in his eyes when only a day ago they were filled with care and wonder.

She turned and slid down against the door, crumpling over her knees as the day played through her mind for the fortieth time and the tears she’d been holding back finally came.

It had happened so quickly.

At the end of the afternoon briefing, as Bra’tac and Teal’c moved to the gate room to communicate the next tactical manoeuvres to the rebel army, Jack’s aide had entered, looking more hassled than hopeful at finally holding papers and doing something useful. Jack really was the most reluctant general she had ever met, down to ignoring his aides until a string of them asked for reassignment to a more junior officer who at least acted as if they needed help.

“General,” the aide had said, passing him a clipboard, “here are the interviews lined up so far. We managed three this afternoon. The rest are for next week. And, uh…”

“Well, spit it out,” Jack had gestured impatiently, andSam had felt a twinge of sympathy for the young man.

“General James wants you to call him about your plans. He — he doesn’t sound happy, sir.”

The aide’s harassed air had suddenly made more sense. The head of the off-world operations wing of the Air Force made most people feel that Anubis had some redeeming features. He was not known for calling to congratulate his underlings.

“Sir, is everything okay? I can explain the reprogramming to him. It really can be reversed in minutes if he’s worried about that,” she had fretted, stupidly thinking about her own suggestion to reorient the country’s defence missiles to target a space-based attack. How naïve she had been.

“Oh, it’s not the defence plan he’s angry about, Colonel, it’s the General’s retirement,” the aide had blurted helpfully.

And frozen in the blast of Jack’s glare.

Someone had pulled the plug on her space suit. Air was running out. The briefing room was spinning.

“What?” She had heard her voice echoing in the room.

“Colonel, let’s step into my office for a moment.”

The familiar crease of worry was back between his eyes. His hand rested softly on the small of her back as he led her through the echoing, spinning silence into his adjoining office and closed the door.

“Sit, Sam. You want some water?”

“You. You’re what?” Her body had numbly followed his instructions even as her mind screamed.

He had sat down heavily in the chair next to hers, rubbing the furrow between his eyes with tired hands. He’d shaken his head.

“I should have been there with you, Sam. I shouldn’t have let you go through the past three days alone.”

His words had thrummed with pain.

“You didn’t! I wasn’t! You were right here! You —“ she had leaned forward to grab his hands, realised just how out of line it was in his office, wrung them together on her lap instead.

“You can’t do this, sir,” she had continued, looking down at her twisted fingers. “You are the only person who understands Anubis, who holds out hope for Daniel. You’re the only one who can guide us through this!”

“You know that’s not true, Carter,” he had sighed. “I’m just following the best paths that people present to me. People like you. And you said it yourself, I’m hanging on to Daniel for too long.”

He had sighed heavily.

“Sam, look at me.”

His brown eyes had been so full of sadness she couldn’t keep a lump from rising in her throat.

“It’s time for me to stop being there for Daniel and to be there for you instead.”

Those words.

Those words were a thousand I Love Yous, a hundred Will You Marry Mes. And she’d thrown them on the floor in her stupid, selfish, self-righteous panic.

“You can’t do this, Sir,” she had said stiffly. “Daniel needs you more than I do.”

She had torn her eyes away, unable to see the hurt fracturing the devotion in his gaze.

“You’re saying Daniel is more important than you.” His voice was soft, flat. Dead.

“He should be, Sir.”

She had heard him rising, walking to the other side of his desk, sinking into his chair with the slab of solid wood between them. Already, the loss of his closeness had stung. If only she had known how much worse she would make it.

“I’m saying you were right, Sir, and I was wrong. Your place is here. Making the decisions you make, including the ones about Daniel, about my work.”

She hadn’t needed to look at him to feel the iron invading the room. But she couldn’t give up. She couldn’t take him from the world, no matter how much she ached for him to hold her. In his arms was the only place she felt truly whole. But she couldn’t let him sacrifice his career for her.

“You can’t do this, Jack,” she had pleaded, desperately. “I won’t let you!”

His fist on the desk had yanked her to standing.

A torrent of hard rage had poured at her.

“You won’t _let_ me _what,_ Colonel?”

His whisper had cut the strings holding her composure.

She had taken a step back, wrapped her arms protectively around her waist.

“I have a phone call to make.” His words had frozen her pain in place. “Close the door behind you when you leave.”

It was no more than she deserved. Of all the times she had skirted the edge of the rules, she had never so blatantly disrespected him at work. He couldn’t let that happen. Once again, he had done the right thing.

But she didn’t know how to live with the loss of the man she had only just allowed herself to love.

She didn’t know if the pain in her chest would let her sit across from him in the briefing room and see him walking into his office where another woman waited. And she had no idea how to sit at a briefing room table without him. He was he anchor.

Her father had died, and she knew some of the grief she felt was because of him. But she knew how to grieve the dead. How do you grieve the living?

The rose’s thorns had cut into her right palm. Slowly, reluctantly, she straightened the crushed piece of paper, peppered with her blood, and unfolded it. Maybe reading his goodbye would cauterise the hole he had left in her heart.

He hadn’t even written her name. Hadn’t needed to. She knew his writing like the lines on her own face.

Blinking, she forced herself to focus on the words.

_I’m sorry._

_I can’t lose you._

_If staying is what it takes to keep you, I’ll stay. I’ll try._

_I just can’t lose you._

The sob tore free, ringing through the evening.

Another shook her, then a third.

It wasn’t a goodbye.

She had to be with him. She had to go to him, to crush him against her, to know the hope was as real as the pain.

Something shuffled in the garden, snapping her to attention.

He walked out of the shadows.


	12. Belonging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certainty wrapped her in its wings.  
> It was as simple as that.  
> Not need.  
> Not love.  
> Bigger than love.  
> Belonging.
> 
> \--oOo--

He held her as if his next breath depended on it. His arms melted away the terror of her loss. His head tucked into the crook of her neck and he rocked her without words.

He knew her. And that knowing was bigger than love. It was belonging.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. The man. The grower of roses. The formidable fighter. The general. The person who understood her loss because he had lived his own.

_I can’t lose you,_ he had written. _I just can’t lose you._

The realisation slammed into her. Losing a parent carves a hollow in your heart. What scar must it leave to lose a child? To lose a partner through the pain?

Mark was right, of course. Bitter and spiteful as her brother had become, he had always had their mother’s vision. The barbs he threw at her hurt because they were true. She _had_ been her father’s favourite. And since her mother’s death, she had never needed anyone. Being intelligent made that no less lonely. But it gave her tools to bury the loneliness. Degrees. Projects. The end of the world.

Jack was different. He knew her. Respected both her brain and her training. Held a mirror to her when she wanted to go too far, but trusted her enough to lead the planet into battle on her plans.

He was the strongest person she knew. His body carried scars that didn’t come from accidental fire, but from torture.

He kept his heart locked in a vault, behind a lethal combination of feigned ignorance, insolence and humour.

Yet he had held her on the night her father died. He had let her in when she reached for him in the dead darkness. He had shielded her with his body, with his care, when he still believed she would bring Pete home the following night.

_I can’t lose you._

She had pushed him, today. Beyond where he should have let her. Because he was willing to give up everything else to be there for her.

_I just can’t lose you._

He loved her. She loved him. She needed him. He was her anchor.

Yet this ran even deeper.

Certainty wrapped her in its wings.

It was as simple as that.

Not need.

Not love.

Bigger than love.

Belonging.

She kissed the curve of his neck.

“You will never lose me, Jack,” she whispered the words that held her destiny.

“You will never lose me. I will fuck up. Again. I will step out of line. We’ll fight. And I you will hate me. I may even hate you.”

She drew in a deep breath, let it out again.

“But you will never lose me. Because I belong with you. I love you. I need you. I belong to you.”


	13. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She folded her hand around his wrist, trying to fight the tiredness, forcing herself to make sense. “You don’t have to do this.”
> 
> His face softened. His voice was gruff when he answered.
> 
> “Yes. Yes I do. This and so much more for the woman who belongs with me.”
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because we've all cried more than enough. A hug goodnight for all of you who need a whisper of peace
> 
> xo
> 
> \--oOo--

The night air brought a chill that soaked into her bones. After the rush of emotion, she was suddenly insubstantial as last season’s leaf. If not for his arms around her, she would eddy away with the next gust of wind.

She tried to draw closer to his warmth, but couldn’t stop the shiver.

“Carter,” his lips moved against her hair, “you’re exhausted. Come, we need to get you warm and into bed.”

She smiled and leaned her head more heavily against his chest.

Since she had seen him standing there, since she had rushed into his arms and said those words — _I love you. I belong to you_ — heavy peace had invaded her. She had never believed in destiny. But all the whirring, buzzing uncertainty faded when he held her.

Maybe it wasn’t destiny. Maybe it was just love.

She didn’t care.

She would follow him anywhere.

He started moving towards her front door.

On the threshold, reality broke into her reverie.

“Shit. The house is a train wreck,” she sighed.

HIs grin flashed in the moonlight, making him look sixteen.

“So bubblebath and pizza stays the coolest date? Excellent.”

She snorted before she could stop herself as she fumbled for her keys and unlocked the door.

At the door to the kitchen, she groaned at the sight of the platters of yesterday’s sandwiches. It all felt like a different person’s memories. And she didn’t want to step back into them.

Slight pressure from his arm around her shoulder led her past the war zone to the bedroom, and on into the bathroom. He turned on the shower, watching the water until steam billowed around him. Only then did he turn to her, apparently satisfied.

“Right, colonel,” he used the term that had crushed her this afternoon. His mouth twitched with regret. “You get in there, and then straight into bed. I’ll bring you a cup of tea, but only if you’re under the covers in five minutes.”

He brushed a tendril of hair out of her face. His lips pressed against hers.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Get warm.”

Suddenly, all she wanted was to do as he said. To chase the chill from her bones in a stream of steaming water and to sleep. Her limbs heavy with exhaustion, she undressed, showered, brushed her teeth and slid between her sheets.

He appeared in the doorway, wafting a smell of lavender towards her from the mug in his hands.

“Mother’s recipe.” He placed the mug on her bedside table. Sprigs of lavender that he must have gathered from her garden drifted lazily in the hot liquid. From the kitchen, the wet shuffle-song of the dishwasher floated towards her. She snuggled deeper under the covers.

“Is the frozen soup in your freezer safe? No, I don’t know, body parts or strange experiments?”

She huffed a soft laugh. “No, sir, the experiments are in the green container marked _Alien Goo._ ”

She folded her hand around his wrist, trying to fight the tiredness, forcing herself to make sense. “You don’t have to do this.”

His face softened. His voice was gruff when he answered.

“Yes. Yes I do. This and so much more for the woman who belongs with me.”

_To you, Jack. To you. I meant what I said. I meant every word._

But he’d already walked away before she could bring her tired lips to form the words.

She startled half-awake when the light clicked off, leaving only the bathroom light to echo the moonlight streaming through her window. The room smelt of soup, but she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes to eat.

Another light clicked off, leaving her in darkness. Somehow, in the space of just one blink, the moon had moved across the sky. The room no longer smelt of lavender or soup. It smelt, wonderfully, reassuringly, of him. A flush of cold air whispered against her spine as the covers shifted, and then his skin was against her, his arms surrounding her.

With a whimper, she released herself back into sleep.

His voice drifted into her dream.

“I belong to you, too, Sam. Always.”


	14. Let's not dwell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm trying to fold this tale around the actual script of Threads. But I couldn't resist twisting what is probably my favourite line of dialogue of all time, ever, to my wicked will.
> 
> Wouldn't it be fun if THAT line, thrown so carelessly across the pond, was an inside joke between two lovers, a reference to a moment neither of them wants to forget?
> 
> Wouldn't it be fun?
> 
> xo

Waking up was his favourite part of every day.

Well. It was the one part he never dreaded.

In the moment of waking, he could revel in his dreams or choose to shove them aside. 

When the dreams were memories, pushing them away was power.

Occasionally, when the dreams were wishes, holding on to them was a moment of stolen happiness.

The only problem with waking was that the world crowded back in.

But today, the dream didn’t fade. It was in his arms.

It opened blue eyes drenched in sleep and blinked at the sound of his alarm.

His dream groaned and scrubbed a hand across her face.

“Morning,” she murmured around a sleepy smile.

His heart thudded joy in his chest.

Closing his eyes, he relished every inch of her skin against him.

“Morning, my love,” he whispered.

The shift in her heartbeat snapped him into focus.

Tears turned her eyes midnight blue in the pre-dawn darkness.

She twisted up and away, shielding her face from him, crossing the space to the other side of the bed to stand.

“Sam? Carter?”

She didn’t look at him as she replied, but her voice was thick with tears. “I’ll get the coffee started.”

At the foot of the bed, she half-turned. An apologetic smile was framed by a trembling chin.

 _Fuck._ What had he done? The words had slipped out so easily. Words he always called her in his dreams. He didn’t think it would be too soon to say them out loud. Not after what she’d said last night.

_I belong to you._

Those words were a thousand I Love Yous.

Was she regretting them?

His lips pressed into a tight line around the possibility.

A line of concern appeared between her eyes.

She bent down to the floor, scooped something up. His shirt.

Lips quirking up for a second, she pulled it over her head before heading out of the door.

HIs head sank onto his knees, his heart sank into the pit of his stomach, as her footfall softened along the corridor.

The first thing he saw was her long legs, the perfect curve of her butt peeking at him as she leaned forward over the open dishwasher.

He halted abruptly in the doorway to the kitchen.

The things she could do to him with nothing but the sight of her skin.

She straightened, two clean mugs clasped against her chest, a self-conscious flush rising up her cheeks as she took in his bare chest, the way his eyes lingered on her thighs, the arousal he couldn’t hide.

Her tears had dried.

That fact alone eased his pain. Her sadness was torture.

“You cleaned the kitchen while I was sleeping.” Her voice was soft, hesitant.

“It wasn’t a big deal. I threw sandwiches in the bin and cups into the washer.”

Her smile broadened, dimpling her left cheek. The flush on her skin grew darker. “I can’t believe I didn’t date you years ago.”

He swallowed down the urge to crush her to him, to feather his fingers through the hair framing her face, to pour his love at her feet. The mere mention of the word love had sent her running in tears. He could not fuck up again.

He lifted one shoulder nonchalantly, channelling Homer Simpson’s clueless confidence with all his might. “Yeah, well. Let’s not dwell.”

She tucked her bottom lip under her teeth, released it slowly.Moisture glistened on it, holding his eyes captive.

Noiselessly, she set the mugs on the counter and padded up to him.

Her left palm stroked the stubble on the line of his chin, the pressure firing sparks all over his skin. The fingertips of her right hand trailed down his chest, over his stomach, pushed his boxers aside, brushed his length.

Every nerve in his body screamed for her. God, the things she could do to him.

Her lips brushed his.

“Oh, I don’t intend to dwell,” she whispered, pressing into him. “I plan to make up for lost time.”

Her hips rocked, almost pushing him off balance. His hands clasped her butt to steady them. A groan escaped his lips as her soft curves yielded and her lips parted.

He followed her movement, breath chasing breath, lifting her as her legs wrapped around him, sliding into her slick, tight heat.

He held her to him as he pulled back, pushed deeper in.

“Morning, my love,” she whispered.


	15. To know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jack had stood up, his hand had brushed hers and he’d let it linger, in plain sight of them all, as he’d flashed his lopsided grin.
> 
> “Okay, kids, well you have a fun Friday night, I got some reports to file. You have no idea how much paperwork is involved when you try to blow up the mountain and you’re stopped by a naked archaeologist.” 
> 
> Teal’c’s guffaw had earned them a wink.
> 
> “Get outta here,” he had continued. “You all deserve it.”
> 
> But his hand had rested next to hers until she had pushed back her chair.
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of sugar for @sjfanforever.  
> xo
> 
> \--oOo--

The sheets were cool and reassuringly heavy against her skin. It was only just gone 10pm, but her eyes burnt with fatigue, despite the heavy sleep she had succumbed to the night before in the protective circle of his arms.

The moon cast silvery shadows over her bed, and she let her eyes follow their shifting patterns as her thoughts slid back over the day.

She had almost lost track of the number of times she had stared death in the face over the past eight years. Almost. Fifty-seven, that she was aware of. Somehow it had never felt as close as today. Yet, at the same time, standing next to him as the self-destruct clock raced towards zero, there was a new emotion.

Peace.

She would die knowing he knew she loved him.

Once the weapon froze, everything else passed in as much of a haze as the day her father died. Daniel, the news of Oma and Anubis. Jack inviting them all to his cabin for the weekend. Teal’c and Daniel agreeing before turning expectantly to her, waiting for her flustered “of course.”

When Jack had stood up, his hand had brushed hers and he’d let it linger, in plain sight of them all, as he’d flashed his lopsided grin.

“Okay, kids, well you have a fun Friday night, I got some reports to file. You have no idea how much paperwork is involved when you try to blow up the mountain and you’re stopped by a naked archaeologist.”

Teal’c’s guffaw had earned them a wink.

“Get outta here,” he had continued. “You all deserve it.”

But his hand had rested next to hers until she had pushed back her chair.

She closed her eyes, let her right hand caress her left where he had left his imprint. Her hand travelled up her arm, along her neck, to her lower lip where his thumb had lingered two nights before.

Her breathing deepened. She shifted restlessly as her hand moved down, across the rise of her breasts, remembering his mouth on them, the exquisite scratching of his stubble on the sensitive skin, his lips closing on her —

Her phone rang shrilly in the darkness. She reached for it without opening her eyes.

“Hello?” Her voice was shakier than she expected, an echo of the heat his memory had ignited in her belly.

“Hey, Carter.”

With a sigh, she lay back against her pillow. She could hear the gentle smile behind his words. The fire in her belly flared brighter.

“Watcha doin’?”

It was such an innocent question to chase such desire through her. Her left hand slipped under the covers. She opened her legs to her fingertips.

She licked her lips.

A sudden image poured ice-cold water down her spine. Jack sitting in the briefing room, surrounded by generals, calling her on speakerphone for advice. She shot upright, heart thumping wildly.

“Carter, you okay?”

“Sir, are you alone?”

“Um. Yeah? Why? Aren’t you?”

“Oh, thank God.” She sagged against her pillow with a sigh of relief.

“Wh…? Ummm…” She heard the creak of his office chair, the soft scrape of his hand on his chin. “Oh.”

She could picture him, as the word came at her across the line. See the way his long fingers moved slowly across his mouth. Hear the grin growing in his voice as he caught the admission behind her words.

“Ohh.” He was purring now, each slowly spoken syllable shooting waves of heat through her.

“Colonel Samantha Carter, what are you wearing?”

Her cheeks flamed. She felt like a schoolgirl, talking on the family phone to the captain of the basketball team.

“Nothing,” she breathed.

His growl turned into a frustrated sigh.

“God, I wish I could hold you right now.”

She smiled her happiness at the phone, hugging her left arm around her.

“Me too. How is the report coming?”

“Which one? I think I’m on number a hundred and three.” His chair creaked again. “Fine. Endless. Maybe a little more bearable now that I can picture you.”

She released an embarrassed giggle.

“Sam, I’m really glad you’re coming to the cabin.”

Her heart grew light in her chest.

“I am too. And I’m glad all four of us will be there. Jack?” She swallowed her sudden nerves. “I’d like to tell Teal’c and Daniel, if you agree. They’re like brothers. Closer than brothers. I-" she shrugged. “I think they’ll understand.”

“Good. Because there’s no way I’m getting through two days without kissing you.”

Laughter shook her shoulders.

“Get some rest, Carter. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay. Thanks for calling. Good night, Jack.”

“Goodnight, my love.”

The peace that had invaded her in the gate room, as the base hurtled towards destruction, settled over her again. The whole world had shifted in the past week. But it would be okay.

“Goodnight, my love,” she replied.


	16. Your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You look so good tonight  
> Oh damn it all you look good  
> That floppy hair and that stupid smile  
> And that old blue sweater
> 
> I swear, I’m gonna lose my shit  
> If you look this way
> 
> You look like you belong  
> In my arms
> 
> \- Kate Miller-Heidke
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A moment. Just a moment.  
> Because sometimes a moment is all it takes to make a day.
> 
> For Tumblr's @terreurnocturne  
> xo

Dawn mocked her with its radiance.

She had woken five minutes before her alarm, aching with his absence. And the doubts had crowded in.

He’d chosen to spend the night alone.

He had the keys to her house, and yet he hadn’t come.

Of course, she hadn’t asked him. He’d called her last night, and she hadn’t asked.

It was her fault.

She rolled out of the tangle of sheets, saw the tank top and shorts she usually wore to bed lying folded at the foot.

God, What had she done, telling him she was wearing nothing while he was at work? No wonder he hadn’t wanted to face her. Of all the juvenile, brainless things.

Unease crawled under her skin as she showered and dressed. She dabbed on mascara, reached for the eyeshadow, and cursed herself to a halt. It was a fucking team weekend. She couldn’t show up dressed for a date.

She didn’t really deserve to show up at all. The guys had been to the cabin twice. She’d refused every time, because she didn’t know if she could keep control of her heart for a whole weekend.

Her whole being longed for the peace she had felt as the clock counted down to the end of her world.

She was a fucking basket case, longing for death, just so she could leave in peace.

She didn’t deserve him.

He deserved better than her.

Angrily, she threw toiletries into her overnight bag. At the door to the bedroom, she hesitated, twisted back, yanking the fitted black jersey over her head.

In the back of her wardrobe, it lurked. Her comfort. The old, blue sweater that had once belonged to her mother. She had sneaked it from her mother’s chest of drawers the day after her funeral and hidden it under her mattress. When the pain cut too deep, she had pulled it over her head and cried herself to sleep in its embrace.

Biting down on pursed lips, she pulled it over her head and revelled in the softness of its asymmetrical neckline, it’s rough, cable-knit surface.

The sound of Teal’c’s Range Rover pulling into her driveway spun her out of her reverie.

She grabbed her bag and jogged to the door.

Daniel was beaming from behind the wheel. He’d been angling to drive Teal’c’s car since Teal’c had bought it. It was good to see he was using his near-death to garner favours.

She shot Daniel a knowing smile as she pulled the door closed behind her.

The back door of the truck opened, shut. Jack stood, staring at her, silhouetted against the purple morning.

His jaw jumped with tension.

He murmured something to Daniel, then strode towards her, furious concentration creasing his brow.

Her heart thudded uncertainty.

“Carter.” His voice was louder than it needed to be, considering his breath was warming her face. The scowl of concentration remained. “Can we bring some of your towels? I may not have enough at the cabin.”

His words carried back to the truck, even over the growling of the motor. But that was not at all what his piercing eyes were saying.

“Of course, sir.”

Her hand fumbled at the lock, shaking far more than it should.

He crowded her with heat.

His arm pushed impatiently at the door.

She was barely inside when she heard it slam shut behind them.

Icy wisps of fear curled in her gut.

Hoping her face was more passive than her thundering heart, she turned to face him.

His hands captured her face, threaded through her hair, hot, demanding.

His lips crashed against her.

“Goddamnit, Carter. Do you have any idea what that sweater does to your eyes?”

It took two attempts to fill her lungs with air.

Every sip tasted of him, deep and sweet. His body thrummed against her, pinning her to the wall.

Her eyes opened wider. Her tongue wet her lips, but he was so close it brushed his mouth. Her arms moved, escaping her control, wrapping around him, pulling him closer.

Footsteps vibrated on the porch.

She twisted desperately away as the door swung open.

“Hey, Sam, could I grab a bottle of water? You have no idea how thirsty incorporeal diner coffee makes you.”

“Of course, Daniel. In the door of the fridge. Help yourself. I’ll just go grab some towels for us all.”

Daniel stepped through the space between them, disappearing into the kitchen.

Brown eyes bored into her soul.

Silently, he raised his hand, ran his thumb over her bottom lip.

Before Daniel stepped back into the hall, he was gone, the door swinging on its hinges with the power of his hand as he pushed back through it and into the waiting dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot imagine life without music, and I always listen as I write.
> 
> Here is the playlist I listen to as I'm writing this piece, including that song from the inimitable Kate Miller-Heidke.
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/35TrNdKxeo35olFrEGjTLp?si=pwYfu6QsSRiqCY2MllvWfQ
> 
> Enjoy, unicorns.


	17. Everything you want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her team were closer than her family. But this conversation was decidedly awkward. 
> 
> With meticulous care, she picked at non-existent dirt under her nails.
> 
> “Sam.” 
> 
> Her head snapped up at Daniel’s single word. His voice was deeper, yet lighter. He suddenly sounded exactly like her father. Not for the first time, she wondered how ascension had changed him; what he saw now that other humans didn’t.
> 
> “Sam,” he continued softly, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling with every word, “I feel the same. We don’t want you to be single. We want you to be with someone you never need to fold yourself smaller for. Someone who loves every part of you. You can still have everything you want.”
> 
> There they were, in Daniel’s strangely dream-like tone. The last words her father had ever spoken to her.
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every multi-chapter fic I write apparently needs to contain one scene that is just pure, unadulterated love for Daniel and his quiet truths.
> 
> This is the one.
> 
> Nope. Not sorry.  
> xo
> 
> \--oOo--

The truck was a cocoon of belonging.

Even with the waves of desire crashing between her side of the back seat and his tired, slouching form, the gentle thrum of the powerful engine, Teal’C and Daniel’s presence and light banter; the fact that she knew the three people sharing her space accepted her, wrapped her in warmth.

She allowed her shoulders to release in their presence as Daniel took the turn on to the interstate and throttled up.

Of course, the first thing they wanted to hear about — all of them — was his experience. Not that he gave them much more than the last time. Apparently the deal with ascending was that you couldn’t remember it when you came back down. All he had left was an endless dream of a fat car salesman in a fifties diner. Sounded horrid.

About fifty miles in, Jack shifted sideways, lolling his head into the hammock of the seat belt. Exhaustion turned his features sharp and grey. She wondered if he had slept at all since they had spoken on the phone.

“Hey, T, you remember the way to the cabin, right?”

“Indeed,” the large man in front of her nodded solemnly, not needing to know why he had been asked to answer. It was one of the small signs of trust she loved so much about her team.

“Good.” Jack’s voice grew wearier with every syllable. “Wake me when we get close, will ya? I was filing reports up to the point I left to grab shower and my clothes for the weekend.”

As his eyes drifted shut, he stretched his legs, bringing his ankle to rest against hers.

The embers in her belly flared at his touch.

She had no idea if he knew just how much the casual contact allayed her fears.

The second she was alone, she crumbled under the weight of the regulations, the rules, the truths life had kicked into her so many times over the years. _You’re not beautiful enough. Not pliable enough. Too clever. Too ambitious. You work with him. You’re a soldier, not a mother. Why would he want someone in combat boots?_

But when he touched her, she believed in destiny.

She nudged her foot forward, so that his leg nestled between her calves.

Brown eyes opened lazily.

She smiled.

A soft smile answered her as his eyelids drifted closed again.

On impulse, she moved.

“Sir.”

She tugged her mother’s jumper over her head, bunched it between her palms, and bent forward to tuck it between his head and the seatbelt.

He inhaled sharply, then more deeply, deliberately. With a small quirk of his lips, he turned his face into the soft fabric. His lips formed the shape of a kiss as his shoulders dropped into the surrender of sleep.

Daniel’s voice broke the silence.

“So, Sam. No engagement ring?” He asked mildly.

She recognised the opening move in chess. He’d only been back for a day, but someone was bound to have told him. The archaeologist was commenting because he wanted to hear it from her.

“No,” she sighed, catching his eye in the rearview mirror. “No ring. No Pete.”

Her friend held her gaze in the mirror for a second before returning his eyes to the road.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Was it your dad’s death?”

It was surreal, this understated conversation that flayed her open at the first sentence.

But he was right. As always.

Daniel never gambled, but if he ever had, she would bet on whatever horse he was backing. The man had always had the freakiest sense of the truth.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” She shrugged, even though no one could see her, snuggled her ankle a little closer to Jack’s reassuring warmth. “I mean, not directly. It was just. He was making such big plans. And…”

Suddenly, her father’s face invaded her mind. _Don’t let rules stand in your way. You can still have everything you want._

“And?” Daniel raised an eyebrow in the rearview mirror.

She huffed out a breath. He would keep hounding her until she told some part of the truth.

“And,” she admitted, “I realised that I wasn’t the right person for him to be building the future for. He — “ she cast around for the words. “He deserves someone who looks at him the way Teal’c looks at ice cream.”

A soft snort of acknowledgement rose from Teal’c.

“And you deserve someone who looks at you like that.” Daniel commented quietly.

Shame flared brightly in her chest.

“No. No, that’s not fair. He was always committed, from the start. I was the one who couldn’t decide.”

She was indescribably grateful that Jack was asleep. Conversations like these were what made Daniel _Daniel,_ what made him more than a brother to her. But she felt like the worst kind of teenage narcissist beauty queen, talking about turning down a man who loved her because she secretly preferred another.

“The Jaffa have a word for the way someone cherishes a lover,” Teal’c’s gentle rumble rose from the seat in front of her, “and a different word for the way a man cherishes his staff weapon. Both are love, but one is not what you aspire to in a relationship.”

He twisted gently in his seat, bringing his face into profile, allowing his eye to catch hers.

“I do not mean any disrespect, Colonel Carter, but Pete Shanahan looked at you with Te’lkar. As if you were an addition to his collection.”

Sam sensed where this conversation was going. She didn’t want it to head there. Yet. Yet wasn’t the reason she wanted to run screaming into the darkness that night at O’Malley’s, the reason she had lost control and kissed Jack, precisely because she felt as if Pete was trying to own her?

She sighed as Teal’c continued, each soft word cutting deeper with its truth.

“Colonel Carter, I regard you as family. As a sister. Allow me to say that I am grateful. I did not know if I would ever see Daniel Jackson again. It was like losing a brother. And I feared I would lose my sister, too. I am grateful that we have you back.”

_Walking on Broken Glass._ The song had been playing on repeat in her head for the past nine days. Every fight with Mark, every taut-smiled moment with her aunts and uncles, was a shard of broken glass in her belly. Every second with Jack was a breath of peace. But when he stepped away, the pain was excruciating.

Her team were closer than her family. But this conversation was decidedly awkward.

With meticulous care, she picked at non-existent dirt under her nails.

“Sam.”

Her head snapped up at Daniel’s single word. His voice was deeper, yet lighter. He suddenly sounded _exactly_ like her father. Not for the first time, she wondered how ascension had changed him; what he saw now that other humans didn’t.

“Sam,” he continued softly, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling with every word, “I feel the same. We don’t want you to be single. We want you to be with someone you never need to fold yourself smaller for. Someone who loves every part of you. You can still have everything you want.”

There they were, in Daniel’s strangely dream-like tone. The last words her father had ever spoken to her.

She had to twist away, to follow the lines of the scrubby pin oaks flashing past them, while her heart slowed its thudding.

Across the back seat, Jack shifted slightly in his sleep, his legs stretching out longer, wrapping closer around her calves.

She glanced at him. The frown still carved a worried line between his eyes, but as she watched, his hands tucked her mother’s soft blue sweater further under his cheek. His face nudged sideways into it. In his dream, he drew in a deep breath. She knew the scent he was catching. Autumn fires, chamomile tea. Scents that brought her peace when the world was sharp and angry.

With a soft sigh, he smiled. His shoulders released and his face relaxed into the unlined calm of trusting sleep.

_Don’t let regulations stand in your way,_ her father’s voice echoed in her ears. _You can still have everything you want._

_—oOo—_

The weight of the fishing rod was solid in her palm. It was an old model, very similar to the one she had learned to fish with. Somehow, it seemed right. She rocked it softly back and cast. Not the most professional job, her father would have said. But the action brought a smile.

In the chair next to her’s, Jack’s eyebrows raised.

“Carter. You didn’t tell me you knew how to fish.”

She lifted her right shoulder, let it drop.

“I’m not sure this qualifies as knowing how. But dad taught Mark and me. With rods just like this one, in fact.”

The horizon drew her gaze. Sudden tears misted her vision.

“He would have really liked it here.”

Behind them, Teal’c and Daniel chatted easily, their drifting conversation the very sound of contentment she craved. She dashed the heel of her hand angrily across her eye.

“God, I am _so over_ crying,” she whispered to herself.

Next to her, Jack stayed silent, apparently too focused on his fishing rod to speak. Yet the moment she regained her composure, his words came, murmured softly enough for only her to hear.

“I don’t subscribe to the afterlife or anythin’, really. But when Charlie…”

It caught in his throat, making her look at him. His mouth worked grimly.

“When Charlie died, I came out here. Found a star that doesn’t belong to any major constellation, that’s never had a particular claim to fame, that’s visible year round. Found it on the starmaps at the SGC, too, soon as I joined. You call it PX-1009. I call it Charlie’s star. And every time I’m out here, I share a beer with it.”

Their fishing lines drifted forgotten in the pond.

“I’ll show you Charlie’s star tonight. And if you want, we can find a star for Jacob.”

Even if she had tried, she wouldn’t have been able to raise her voice above a whisper.

“I’d like that,” she answered carefully. “And I think dad would, too.”

The memory of her father’s voice drifted back to her across the ripples on the water.

_You can still have everything you want._


	18. The way Teal'c looks at ice cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sam.”
> 
> She turned to look back at him, her hand on the doorknob.
> 
> The words turned to dust in his mouth. How could he tell her what she had just given him? How could he put the end of his war with himself into words? What could he say to explain that she had saved him?
> 
> Her eyes roamed his face.
> 
> Silently, she stepped back to him. Her fingertips cupped his face. She pressed her lips to his for a long, slow moment.
> 
> “I know,” she whispered. 
> 
> \--oOo--

*Jack*

Something quietened within her. He could sense it, as real as if it were happening in his own chest.

Her fishing line drifted, forgotten, in the centre of the pond as she stared into the afternoon sky, her eyes somehow landing on the precise spot where Charlie’s star would hover close to midnight.

Jack abandoned all pretence of fishing and turned to watch the change in the angles of her face. Certainty settled softly in her eyes.

After minutes of silence, she cocked her head towards him. A fond smile played on her lips, her eyes violet-blue and finally, _finally_ , devoid of doubt. He didn’t think it was possible, but like this, she was even more beautiful.

“This is great,” she said.

And as surely as if he had spoken the words himself, he knew she wasn’t talking about fishing, but about this, about them. About finally knowing that love was also meant for them.

Wildflowers grow best in damaged soil.

In the warscape of his life, a meadow of wildflowers waved a rainbow of joy in the sunshine of her smile. His own mouth stretched into a grin.

“I told ya,” he shot back, his heart thudding happiness when her dimples appeared.

“I can’t believe we didn’t do this years ago.”

The urge to touch her, to kiss her, to breathe in her hair and bathe in her nearness, gripped him in the gut.

Her mouth quirked a little deeper into its smile on just one side, a gentle question. As if she could sense his emotions, too.

Jack swallowed.

Landmines lurked in newly-greened fields. He knew that all too well. But he was done hiding in the shadows alone. Even if it killed him, he wanted to dance in the light with her.

The problem was that after so many years of clamping it down, he was scared he had forgotten how.

He reached for a memory to steady him. Her kitchen, and morning coffee.

Smirking around the fear, he conjured the moment.

“Yeah, well,” he repeated his words from that morning like a mantra, “let’s not dwell.”

Her dimples tucked deep into her cheeks, dimming the sound of Teal’c and Daniel’s banter. Her eyes smouldered, gliding down his chest, coming to rest in the very place that remembered the moment most obviously, the feel of her hands easing his jeans down, her cupping him.

Her gaze alone had the power to make him groan.

The air between them thickened with desire. God. The things she could do to him with just one look.

She licked her lips, slowly, before lifting her eyes from his groin.

“There are no fish in this pond, are there?” She asked.

His heart hammered a drunken jig of love and want.

“No,” he croaked.

“Good.” Her eyes held his, burned into him. Her voice dipped lower. “Then they won’d miss us if we disappear inside for a moment.”

She rose, all legs and curves and radiance. “I’ll go make some garlic bread for the grill,” she called to Daniel and Teal’c.

Mesmerised, he watched her disappear into the cabin before laying down his rod mutely and following her.

She leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, her eyes travelling over his body as he drew closer. Just as he reached out to touch her, she spun away, moving at his speed but two steps ahead, past the spare bedroom, into the bathroom.

He hesitated, thrumming with need and uncertainty.

His chest tight, he stepped in behind her.

“Close the door.”

Fuck, he was grateful he had never reported to her. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever worked with, and that was already hard enough. But hearing her giving him an order made every bone in his body wobble.

Moving carefully, he turned the doorknob, focusing on the soft click of the catch before turning back to her.

Her lips were parted. Her blue eyes blazed.

“Drop your pants, sir.”

His hands shook as he followed her command.

She stepped closer to him, and closer again. Her right hand pinned his left shoulder to the door with all the force of a butterfly. Her left hand traced lazy patterns up and down his chest, her lips quirking with every involuntary shiver she drew from him.

“What are you doing, Colonel?” He breathed. Every nerve in his skin tingled with her nearness, with the dream her rank on his tongue invoked. His erection throbbed at the thought, his naked need pressing against her clothes, and her smile grew dark and feral.

Her left hand circled his shaft. Slowly, while she watched him, she sank to her knees.

“What I’ve wanted to do every time I’ve seen you in dress blues, sir.”

Her lips closed around him, taking his full length into her mouth.

Her hands travelled up his thighs, nudging them apart, drawing heat on his skin, cupping the curve of his butt. She nudged his hips closer, eased them back, rocking him deeper inside her soft, insistent mouth, her tongue echoing the strokes of her fingers. One hand slipped between his legs, cupping him as he tightened with every move. His fingers tangled desperately through her hair, holding on to her as the whole world narrowed to a single point of burning, building, aching pleasure, throbbing with her steady rhythm, slower but faster, gentler but deeper, controlling his heartbeat, his breathing, his mind.

He wanted to give in to the exquisite, painful need, to lose himself inside her. He had to. He couldn’t hold on.

“Sam” he groaned.

Her eyes, purple-blue, flashed up to his face. Her hands tightened, her lips pulled him in, sucked him deeper as release thundered through him.

Everything faded except her hands, her lips, her tongue, her rhythm, her eyes, watching him as he relinquished everything to her.

His body drifted back into focus. His head dropped back against the door, taking some of the weight from his shaking legs, his trembling arms.

Slowly, carefully, she released him, rose to her feet, and gathered him against her, cradling his weight against her chest, easing his head into the crook of her neck, tracing soft circles in his hair, across his back.

He floated, feather-light and insubstantial, in the circle of her protection.

_I belong to you._

Those four words.

Finally, he understood the depth of what they meant.

She had not only given him her heart with those four words, but her body, her pleasure, her control. She had let him hold all of her.

And kneeling on the bathroom floor, she had done the same for him.

His arms tightened around her.

“I belong to you,” he whispered.

She drew in a breath so deep it filled his chest. Her hand came to rest between them, her palm flat over his heart.

“I promise I will keep you safe,” she whispered back.

He lost track of how many minutes passed as they held each other. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but her hand over his heart, her fingers stroking his back, his arms holding on to her, the peace of their togetherness.

When she pulled away to look at him, he grimaced.

Her smile was radiant under eyes as soft as morning mist.

“I, um, had better go finish that garlic bread,” she said softly. “Or we won’t have to worry about how to tell the guys.”

“I’m down with that,” he grumbled, reaching for her, but she slipped out of his grasp with a low chuckle.

“Sam.”

She turned to look back at him, her hand on the doorknob.

The words turned to dust in his mouth. How could he tell her what she had just given him? How could he put the end of his war with himself into words? What could he say to explain that she had saved him?

Her eyes roamed his face.

Silently, she stepped back to him. Her fingertips cupped his face. She pressed her lips to his for a long, slow moment.

“I know,” she whispered.

—oOo—

By the time he stepped back outside, the three others were standing around the fire, Daniel poking at the coals while the smell of butter and roasting garlic filled the dusky air. The guys were facing the pond, but her eyes were on the door. When she saw him, a little line of tension between her eyes eased.

He stopped in his tracks, overwhelmed by the sight of her.

“Garlic bread’s almost ready,” Daniel spoke, oblivious to his presence. “Any idea where Jack is? He’s been gone a long time. There won’t be any left if he waits much longer. I’m starving.”

She flashed a grin towards Jack at the door, then looked back at Daniel.

“I dunno. He came inside with me.”

Daniel would have missed the smug little smirk on her lips as she spoke words that turned his blood to fire with the memory of her drinking him in.

“Maybe he’s checking the cabin for animals?" she suggested innocently. "There must be a hundred little critters who want to crawl inside it or nibble on it when he’s not around.”

He felt the laughter building in his chest, floating on the joy of her.

“Bears,” he commented, sauntering out of the shadows. “I was huntin' bears. Three of them. Daddy bear whose porridge was way too hot, mommy bear whose porridge was way too sweet, and baby bear whose porridge was just right.”

“Bears?” Teal’c cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Yah,” he fired back with a cocky grin that started aimed at Teal’c and ended resting on her. “You know, since Goldilocks is finally here, I thought I’d better check for her three bears.”

She stuck one hand on her hip, her eyes widening with incredulous surprise.

“Goldilocks, sir?”

Her words thrummed with teasing, feigned anger.

“Sure, Carter. Ya know. Beautiful girl, eyes blue as the autumn sky, golden curls, smile that melts hearts.”

His own heart thrilled with the words, with Daniel’s sideways glance, with the blush creeping over her cheeks even as she pulled her face into a totally unconvincing scowl.

“Loads of boys must have called you Goldilocks,” he pushed on before having to clamp his mouth shut around the laughter that was threatening to engulf him.

She folded her arms in front of her, her own mouth twitching with suppressed mirth.

“Not many who have lived, Sir.” She said quietly.

Happiness bubbled over, spilling out of him as he crossed the space between them.

“Daniel, T, I gotta tell ya something.”

He pulled her against him. His hand came to rest, palm flat, against her heart.

“I love her,” he breathed. “I fucking love her.”

He touched her hair, her dimpling cheek. His kiss was soft and slow.

“The way Teal’c looks at ice cream, huh.”

Daniel’s dry comment pulled him back to land. She twisted in his arms to face them, leaning her back against his chest, her head soft against his cheek. He wrapped her in his arms.

The guys grinned happily at them from across the fire.

“You owe me one hundred dollars, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c rumbled.

“Wait, you _placed bets_ on us getting together?” Sam huffed as Daniel reached into his pocket for his wallet.

“Oh, no, that was way too obvious,” Daniel put on his lecturing voice, like he was explaining ancient Babylonian to a bunch of fifth graders. “We bet on which of you would tell us.”

“Daniel, did — did you — how much did you really see while you were ascended?” She asked, fascination fighting with nervousness in her voice.

Jack pulled her closer.

“This? I didn’t need to ascend to see this. I knew when Jack pasted a photo of Narim to the punching bag in gym and beat it to a pulp.”

Low laughter tumbled out of Teal’c.

Jack shrugged defensively. “You gave him your cat and he didn’t even thank you!”

Guffaws and retorts floated into the early evening air, easy, comfortable, as peaceful as the tendrils of smoke that traced pale patterns against the darkening sky.

Behind them, Charlie’s star blinked brightly into view.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this.
> 
> The smiles and thoughts you shared with over the course of Walking on Broken Glass carried me through dark days and back to fields of wildflowers and the sun.
> 
> You mean more than you know.  
> xo


End file.
